


After the Storm

by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons



Series: The Fisherman AU Series [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, fisherman AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24195091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons/pseuds/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons
Summary: The rolling thunder matched the sick sensation in David’s gut- a roiling, aching sense of guilt and dread weighing him down like an anchor. He hated fighting with Patrick on the best of days, but knowing he was out on the boat in weather like this made it much, much worse.Or, another installment of the Fisherman AU wherein the boys get into a fight and a storm rolls in. Have no fear- all ends well.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: The Fisherman AU Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649650
Comments: 46
Kudos: 192





	After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingscatt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingscatt/gifts).



> For OscarWildeWannabe, who is always providing inspiration and loves Fisherman Pat as much as I do- another little addition to the Fisherman AU series. This has not been beta'd, any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title is from After the Storm by Mumford and Sons

The rolling thunder matched the sick sensation in David’s gut- a roiling, aching sense of guilt and dread weighing him down like an anchor. He hated fighting with Patrick on the best of days, but knowing he was out on the boat in weather like this made it much, much worse. 

David paced around the apartment, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater he was wearing, unsure what to do with himself. The sweater was Patrick’s; a scratchy, oversized, off-white wool number that David had co-opted on another day similar to this a few months before. Wearing Patrick’s clothes, surrounding himself with his scent, usually had a calming effect. It didn’t seem to be helping today, however. David jumped at another crack of thunder, tears stinging his eyes as he tried to swallow the panic he could feel rising in his throat. 

David heard a low whine and spotted Hal cowering under the kitchen table. 

The dog- a dopey-looking black and white mutt with a mop of curls that fell over his eyes- was a new addition to their household. They’d argued good-naturedly over the name when they’d brought him home from the shelter, with David wanting to go with something “timeless” like Prada or Alexander (after McQueen, naturally.) 

Patrick suggested Hal- “short for halibut!” he’d said joyfully, which David had promptly shot down. 

“Our cat already has a fish name,” he argued. “I’m not doing that to the dog, too.”

Patrick’s face had visibly softened suddenly, his impossibly huge eyes widening as his mouth turned downward into his fond, upside-down smile. “What did you just say?”

“What do you mean, what did I say?” David said defensively, crossing his arms. “I said we’re not naming the dog after a fish.” 

“No, I think you just referred to Mack as _our cat._ ” 

David felt himself flush, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t- that’s not what happened.You must have misheard me. I said _your_ cat.” 

“Okay, David,” Patrick said patiently, pulling him onto his lap and kissing him soundly. Somehow, ‘Hal’ had stuck anyway. 

They’d fought this morning, much less good-naturedly, and Patrick had left for work, slamming the door behind him and leaving David feeling as rattled as the doorframe. 

It was a stupid argument, David could see that now. Patrick had found the guest list David had been working on for their upcoming wedding, and questioned the couple dozen new guests David had added within the last couple of days. 

“We’ve talked about this, David. We really can’t afford this many more people,” Patrick had said. David could tell he was trying to be patient, but could hear the edge of irritation in his voice, which immediately made him feel defensive. 

“They’re my _friends,_ Patrick. I want them to be there.”

“I don’t even recognize most of these names, David. How important can they be if I’ve never even heard you talk about them?”

“They’re my New York friends,” David amended quietly, not meeting Patrick’s eye. 

“Oh, so these are the friends you haven’t seen or spoken to since you decided to move here?” The irritation in Patrick’s voice fully presented itself now. “The ones who stopped pretending to care about you the moment you decided New York wasn’t where you wanted to be anymore and you could no longer foot the bill for their nights out?” 

“You know _nothing_ about my life in New York, Patrick. About my friends there,” David snapped.

He did, though, and deep down, David knew it. Patrick had seen enough when they went to New York to pack up his apartment; the looks they’d given him when they found out what Patrick did for a living, the condescending comments about how ‘sweet’ it was that David was moving back to his hometown. But David had stubbornly pushed back anyway, their usually-quiet early morning now shattered and rife with tension, and Patrick had left for work before they made amends. 

And now it was storming, occasional lightning splitting the angry-looking sky, and Patrick was on a boat in the middle of the ocean. David knew Patrick would be on his way back; the boats would head for the docks at the first sign of troubled weather. But he also knew this storm had come on suddenly and without much warning, and his stomach sank as the minutes ticked by. 

Another low whine came from under the table, and David paused his pacing to scoop Hal up in his arms. 

“You’re getting too big for this,” David chided, and he was. Soon Hal would be too heavy for him to carry around as he grew into his gangly puppy limbs and continued to put on weight. David carried the dog to the couch and settled in, absentmindedly running his fingers through the soft, dark curls that covered him. 

“You and your dad will both need a haircut soon,” he said quietly, pushing Hal’s fur back away from his eyes. David could hear Patrick’s voice teasing him about spoiling the animals as Mackerel- also known as Mack, their chubby orange tabby cat- hopped up on the arm of the couch where David was resting his head. Mack had taken to Hal surprisingly well and had no qualms about sharing his space, which David was grateful for. David was unsettled, his mind skirting the edge of panic as the minutes passed, the weather worsened, and Patrick still wasn’t home. Mack’s rhythmic purring and Hal’s soft fur beneath his fingers grounded him even as the tears he’d been fighting all morning finally started to fall. 

_Just let him be okay,_ David pleaded with whatever nebulous forces existed in the universe. _Let him get home safely and I swear I’ll never-_

Before he could finish his train of thought, he heard the rattle of the key in the lock and leapt to his feet, gently dislodging both Mack and Hal in the process. 

Patrick was barely through the door before David was on him, pressing kisses to his rain-damp face and murmuring apologies. 

“I’m all fishy and wet,” Patrick warned, trying to gently push David away. 

“I don’t care,” David replied, and for once he really didn’t. Normally, he would insist on Patrick showering before he’d come within five feet of him after work, but after everything that had transpired that morning, he couldn’t bear the thought of being away from him any longer. 

“I’m so sorry, Patrick. Can we please not fight ever again?” David murmured into Patrick’s chest, which shook lightly with suppressed laughter. 

“I’m sorry, too, but I don’t know if that’s realistic,” he replied softly, smoothing his hand down the back of David’s neck, scratching lightly at the short hairs there. 

David hummed, reluctant to agree. They stood like that for a few moments, David slightly hunched to curl around Patrick’s more compact frame, unbothered that Patrick was dripping water onto the floor. Patrick shifted his weight from foot to foot, swaying them in place, indulging David’s obvious need for physical contact. 

After a few minutes, he patted David’s hip lightly. “Come on, David. Let me get cleaned up and then we can talk, okay?”

David sighed and nodded, pulling away reluctantly, then padding quietly after Patrick as he headed towards the shower, Mack and Hal dutifully following in their wake. 

“What are you doing?” Patrick laughed, pulling his wet clothes off as David perched himself on the bathroom counter. 

David shrugged, unable to articulate the aching dread and terror he’d had weighing him down all morning. The idea of Patrick being out of his sight was almost unbearable for the time being. As usual, Patrick seemed almost able to read his mind, sense his unease without David needing to say it. He gave David’s knee a reassuring squeeze, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before climbing into the shower. “I’ll be quick,” he promised. David nodded, finally feeling the tension he’d been carrying all morning slowly leaving his neck and shoulders as steam filled the room. 

As promised, Patrick was expedient in the shower, and David, Mack, and Hal all followed him into the bedroom a few minutes later. David took the opportunity to change into fresh clothes, and they collapsed into bed, tangling their limbs and pressing their foreheads together, Mack and Hal curled at the foot of the bed. 

“I’m sorry we fought,” Patrick said softly. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”

“I’m sorry, too,” David answered. “You’re right about the guest list.” Patrick pulled back slightly to look David in the eye, shaking his head. 

“No, listen, David. If you want to invite them, I’ll support you. It’s not my place to dictate who you invite. It’s just…” He paused, expression thoughtful. “It just bothers me to think about sharing one of the most important days of our lives with people who have hurt you. I guess I just want to understand _why_ you would want them there.”

David swallowed thickly over the lump that had risen in his throat, shrugging. “I wanted them to see how wrong they were about my life here. To show them that I- I’ve won.” 

David was certain that someday, he’d become immune to the sheer volume of Patrick’s eyes, the intensely fond expressions he made, but for now, they still managed to knock the wind out of him. 

“You’ve _won?”_ Patrick teased, eyes bright, once again showcasing his uncanny ability to know just when the sincerity was about to overwhelm David and a little ribbing was in order. “What have you won, exactly? The lottery? Publisher’s Clearing House?” 

David rolled his eyes, pressing on as he reached out to smooth a hand through Patrick’s curls. “At the end of the day, I don’t care who we invite. All that matters is that I get to call you my husband when all is said and done.”

Patrick smiled as he hummed in agreement, leaning into the touch like a cat before angling to kiss David languidly. “ _Husband,”_ he murmured, pulling away after a moment. “I love the sound of that.” 

They lay there for a while, kissing and talking and finalizing the guest list and other wedding details until their stomachs started grumbling, clamoring for food, and they were forced to get up. 

* * *

“Hey, David?” Patrick said quietly, later that evening. 

“Hmm?” David looked up from his phone to see Patrick gazing at him, smiling crookedly. 

They’d just finished dinner and were curled up on the couch together, a nature documentary murmuring in the background. David had his feet in Patrick’s lap, Mack was curled on the back of the couch, and Hal was sleeping quietly in his dog bed in front of the crackling fire. It was one of those nights that felt miraculous for its banality, the type of evening David had never allowed himself to dream of having before Patrick came back into his life. 

“This is better than winning the lottery.”

David bit back a grin, charmed as always by Patrick’s particular brand of sickly-sweet, cheesy sincerity. “Damn straight it is.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hal the dog's description is inspired by a Portuguese Water Dog; their curls remind me of Patrick and their black-and-white coats remind me of David, making them the perfect dog for my fisherman AU.


End file.
